


Hatesex

by karcathy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, Black Romance, M/M, Plot? What Plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcathy/pseuds/karcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk isn't exactly sure why he agreed to this, but he isn't complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hatesex

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this was written for fanficstuck this wasn't my idea just sayin'.

You’ve never actually talked to Equius Zahhak. You know him by reputation, of course – strong, sweats a lot, likes horses a little too much – but that’s all. Apart from the horses, your interests don’t really overlap. You think he might be a friend of a friend of a friend, but to be honest, you don’t particularly care.

 

You’re a little surprised, then, to find out he hates you. Well, that’s a bit of an oversimplification. As far as you can tell, he completely loathes you – and desperately wants you to fuck him senseless. You aren’t exactly sure how those two things go together, but you’re not exactly going to complain. Not when he’s naked and tied to a bed in front of you. This... isn’t exactly a situation you’re used to.

 

“So, uh,” you say, swallowing nervously and trying to look him in the eye (and nowhere else), “Run the whole hating me and yet still wanting to bang thing past me one more time?”

“Being dominated by you would be utterly humiliating,” he says, sweating profusely.

“And you get off on that?”

He nods, and you have to admit, it’s kind of hot.

“So... you tied yourself to a bed and called me up?” you say, smirking, “What if I said no?”

“That would be even more humiliating,” he says, tugging at the ropes, “But they aren’t tied properly.”

Sure enough, his hands come free easily, and he sits up, wiping his forehead.

“This was just for dramatic effect,” he explains, looking a little embarrassed, “You are, of course, free to back out at any time.”

“Right,” you say, nodding absent-mindedly.

Backing out wasn’t really a possibility you’d considered. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re starting to get really into this whole thing.

“You wanna do this properly?” you ask, half-smiling.

He hesitates before nodding, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead.

“Right, first things first, then,” you say, folding your arms in your most business-like manner, “We need a safe word.”

“I usually use ‘pony pals’,” he says, and you have to suppress a giggle.

“Okay, fine, we’ll use that,” you say, turning to glance around the sparse apartment, “So is this all you’ve got?”

He starts to say something, but you interrupt before he can get a single word out.

“Never mind, there are a couple of things I want to get anyway,” you say, waving a hand at him and turning to leave, “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be about half an hour.”

 

Exactly 30 minutes later, you’re back, carrying a large black bag. Equius is still sitting on the bed, naked.

“So you’re cool with the ropes,” you say, not bothering with a greeting, “What else?”

“That depends,” he says, shrugging.

You pause, thinking about what he might like. Well, he does have a thing for horses...

“Hmm... What about whips?” you ask, shifting the strap of the bag on your shoulder.

“That would be... Yes,” he says, and you notice beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Right,” you say, grinning, “Let’s tie you up, then. Handcuffs or ropes?”

“Ropes. Wrists, not ankles.”

“You wanna be on your front or your back?”

He hesitates before saying “Front.”

“Right,” you say, picking up his ropes, then chucking them on the floor and taking out your own, “Lie down.”

He quickly obeys, shoving a pillow under his stomach and stretching out his arms.

“I’m not gonna tie them too tight, but try not to tug at them, okay?” you say, tying his wrists to the bedposts with practised ease, and he nods.

“I don’t...” he says, and then swallows before continuing, “I don’t mind if you leave marks.”

You finish off the knots, then step back to admire your handiwork, smiling.

“All right. I’ll be back in just a moment, then,” you say, grabbing your bag, “Where’s the bathroom?”

“First door on the right,” Equius says, twisting his head to look at you, “Why?”

You don’t respond. He’ll see soon enough.

 

It doesn’t take you long to change out of your regular clothes and into a black leather outfit that doesn’t leave much – well, anything, actually – to the imagination. You select a riding crop from your bag, and take a deep breath before opening the door, getting yourself into the right mindset.

“Well, well, well,” you say, striding into the room and smacking the riding crop against the palm of your hand, “What have we got here, then?”

You smile slightly as Equius swallows sharply, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. It’s kind of disgusting, really, but you aren’t doing this because you like him. To be honest, you aren’t really sure why you’re doing this at all. Perhaps because you like the idea of kinky hate-sex, or maybe just because you were bored. Probably a mixture of the two.

“You’re despicable, aren’t you?”

He nods, and you smirk, walking slowly over to the bed.

“You deserve to be punished, don’t you?”

He nods again, emphatically, and you step up to the edge of the bed, towering over him.

“You-” you swing the riding crop, hitting his ass with a satisfying smack and making him moan, “Are-” you continue, punctuating each syllable with a smack, “Dis-gus-ting.”

He moans, and you grin. Clearly, he’s getting off on this, but you think it’s your turn to have a little fun now.

“Get up on your knees,” you order him, grabbing a condom and some lube and sliding onto the bed.

He quickly obeys, scrabbling to get his legs underneath him.

“Stay still.”

He freezes, and you squirt a generous dollop of lube into the palm of your hand, slopping it across his ass and getting a good deal on the sheets. You don’t really care about that, though – not your sheets, not your problem. Smirking, you slip two fingers into his ass.

“Keep quiet.”

He gasps, and you think he’s biting his lower lip, but sure enough, he manages to remain more or less silent as you add a third finger. You’d guess he’s done this plenty of times before.

“Stay there,” you say, carefully extracting your fingers and shifting backwards.

Needless to say, he stays frozen as you unwrap the condom and slip it onto your dick. You think he’s almost repulsively obedient, and yet, it’s also somehow tantalisingly attractive. You could probably order him to do just about anything. The thought makes you shudder, and you aren’t sure whether it’s in a good way or a bad way. You think you’re starting to understand this whole hate-sex thing.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” you say, your voice low and almost seductive, despite the fact that you’re trying not to laugh, “Don’t make a sound.”

You kind of wish you could see his expression, but he nods, so you guess he’s cool with that.

“If you do,” you say, leaning in close and whispering in his ear, “I’ll have to punish you.”

He nods again, making a very slight whimpering noise, muffled by the sheets.

“Don’t do that again,” you say, running your fingernails lightly down his back, “You don’t want to make me angry, do you?”

He shakes his head, shivering, and you wonder whether you went too far. Well, he hasn’t said the safe word yet, so you guess you’re doing all right.

“Good.”

You run your hands up his thighs, almost gently, carefully spreading them, and then pause. He shivers – in anticipation, you think – and you smirk. You stay still for a moment, enjoying this position of power, then thrust forwards suddenly, catching him off-guard. He tenses up, automatically, and you barely give him time to relax before thrusting again, and again and again, harder and harder. Sweat runs down his back and you can see his neck muscles straining with the effort of remaining silent, and you’re impressed that he’s managing to stay quiet, because you aren’t exactly being gentle. A part of you wonders whether he’s actually enjoying this, and a larger part of you doesn’t care, because an even larger part of you is enjoying this a _lot_.

“Aa-ah, I’m gonna-” you say, embarrassingly soon, and then you do, and you think you should probably feel a little bad about that, but honestly, you don’t give a fuck.

You pause for a moment, panting, then pull out and slide the condom off, chucking it into the trash can without looking. Reaching up, you untie Equius’ hands and then hop off of the bed, grabbing your riding crop.

“Finish yourself off,” you say, as you saunter back towards the bathroom, “I’m gonna shower.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you see him frantically jerking off, biting his lip to keep himself from crying out.

“Oh, and you don’t have to stay quiet any more,” you add, shutting the door behind you.

You smirk, turning on the water, as you listen to him moaning loudly. You shower quickly, for once, but he still finishes before you, and that makes you smirk even more. You think you could probably stand to do this again. Maybe next time you’ll even jerk him off yourself. Maybe not, though. You kind of like it this way.  


End file.
